


all i wanna do

by frankie_31



Series: Tumblr TW Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom Peter Hale, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sub Chris Argent, Switch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_31/pseuds/frankie_31
Summary: Stiles helps his men with a monster problem and then they take a bath.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr TW Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691188
Comments: 7
Kudos: 225





	all i wanna do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shey/gifts).



> Prompt from tumblr: Did I hear someone say Stetopher? 😍 Chris and Peter are notorious for getting themselves into trouble when left unsupervised. Unfortunately, this time it doesn't look like they're getting out of it on their own. Stiles is sick and tired of getting fired from shitty jobs due to supernatural shenanigans beyond his control. That doesn't mean he isn't going to help when his favorite DILFs need rescuing from their bad decisions. Again. Chris and Peter find the best way to make it up to him.

“This is seriously the last time I’m bailing you idiots out,” Stiles hisses into his cell phone. He’s currently scurrying down the maintenance hallway of the mall, heading towards the employee parking lot. “There is like fifty years of experience between you and neither of you can handle a mangy dog?”

“It’s not a dog,” Chris says evenly. His silenced pistol gives a suppressed clacking sound as Stiles’ bursts from the mall doors and runs to his Jeep. “It’s a chupacabra.”

All Stiles wants to do is work at GameStop. It’s summer. He doesn’t have to go back to college until August. He just wants to work thirty-five hours a week and eat too many soft pretzels and chill. 

Instead, he’s skipping out on his shift in his first week. He’s going to get fired and it’s all Chris and Peter’s fault. 

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Stiles says, putting his phone on speaker. 

“Ten would be ideal,” Peter calls, sounding winded. Stiles recalculates his quickest route. If he takes the forestry access trail he can shave four minutes off his travel time. He might pop a tire he can deal with that after. 

Chris had outfitted his Jeep with a titanium grill made for ramming last winter after Stiles’ dented his hood on a particularly feisty hydra. Stiles finds that he uses the grill far more often than he’d care to. Today is no exception. As he peels into the field Chris and Peter are fighting the chupacabra in, he takes in their positioning. Chris is standing over a crumpled Peter and he’s got his sawed-off shotgun out. It’s not doing much beyond bouncing the big, ugly chupacabra back a few steps but Chris is holding his ground. 

Stiles guns it and he slams into the side of the beast with a satisfying crunch. He has a few homemade weapons with him and he lobs a holy water grenade out of his window at the chupacabra hopefully. It burns the creature, sizzling and smoking its skin and leaving it shrieking in confusion. 

“‘There’s one thing about living in Santa Clara I never could stomach’,” Stiles quotes, hanging his stake shooter out of his window. He aims carefully and waits for the chupacabra to turn to him. “‘All the damn vampires.’”

He fires and the chupacabra explodes into ash. 

“Do you know how many vampire quotes I just thought of?” Stiles asks, hopping out of the Jeep. “Narrowing that down was harder than killing that sucker.”

“No puns,” Peter groans feebly, reaching up for Chris’ hand. Chris hauls him to his feet and Peter slumps over his shoulder. His face is a mass of bruises and rivulets of blood and he’s carrying himself in a way that clearly says ‘broken ribs’. 

“I’m going to pun as much as I want. I just yippee ki yay’d that ugly bastard into the next realm. If I want to pun, I’m going to pun,” Stiles says to hide his anxiety. He holds a hand out and Peter turns his face into it. “Sun’s out, pun’s out.”

“Please,” Peter says weakly into Stiles’ palm. He licks Stiles’ thumb and then kisses it. “Bring back the beast. I think dying is less painful than your sense of humor.”

“Thanks for the assist,” Chris says. He takes Stiles’ other hand gently. “I should have made the vampire connection myself.”

“Well, that’s why you keep me around,” Stiles jokes, smiling despite himself at his lovers. “This rubber band and paperclip brain has to have some use.” 

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Peter says, his loving expression betraying his snarky words. His face has smoothed to look less like a bloody steak and he draws Stiles close. 

“You’re a genius,” Chris says, his face is still pinched but he’s a little less pale. He continues in a dry drawl, “I’ve never known such intellect.”

“I take payment in beard burn and orgasms,” Stiles says, looping Chris into the hug. Peter’s breathing slowly returns to his normal, unlabored rhythm and something loosens in Stiles’ chest. 

“You little idiot,” Peter says fondly. Stiles leans up to kiss him, mindful of the still-healing split on his upper lip. 

The kiss deepens and Stiles ends up with Peter’s tongue in his mouth and Chris pinning him close to Peter. Chris likes to watch most of the time. It works for them. 

“As much as I would love to get rawed in this field,” Stiles says, pulling back and leaning his head on Chris’ shoulder. “You’re covered in your own gore and I have to try to get my job back.”

“Is it the money? I’ll give you money,” Peter says between laying kisses on Stiles’ neck and jaw. “How much money do you want?”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Stiles laughs and Chris chuckles in his ear. 

“How much does a mall job pay? A couple grand? I’ll give you three thousand dollars to come to my house and take your pants off right now,” Peter says and Stiles smacks him on the shoulder. 

“Are you serious? You’re preposterous,” Stiles yelps and Chris full out laughs behind him. 

“That’s a good deal, Miecz,” Chris says and he laughs again. “Three grand and you get your beard burn. That’s a win.”

“I’m leaving now,” Stiles huffs. He untangles himself despite many protests and blows them a kiss out his window. “Take your three thousand dollars and buy me some Taco Bell for when I get off work.” 

“I’ll die first,” Peter shouts after him and Stiles laughs as he peels out of the field. 

***

“So, you didn’t get fired,” Peter says, peering at Stiles over the edge of his cognac leather sofa. 

“I told my manager that my boyfriend’s dog got hurt,” Stiles says, dropping a kiss on Chris’ head as he walks past him into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he can’t help the delighted laugh that burbles out of him. “A Crunchwrap Supreme? And those little spicy cheese things? You really do love me.”

“That was your enabler’s doing,” Peter says, sitting up a little more from his languid sprawl. “I would never step within a thousand feet of a Taco Bell.”

“Oh,” Stiles purrs, closing the fridge again. “Did someone do something very nice for his Stiles?”

“Perhaps,” Chris says, smiling helplessly across the breakfast bar. 

“Does he deserve something very nice from his Stiles?” Stiles asks, leaning over the counter. Chris nods into his kiss and it turns heated until Stiles’ tries to climb over the counter and bangs his knee on the cabinet handle. 

“Let’s take a bath,” Peter suggests as he comes into the kitchen. He untangles Stiles’ from the counter and leads him and Chris into the spa room. 

Because he is Peter, he has a full teak spa in his home complete with a mind-boggling sunken bathtub big enough for all three of them and then some. It takes nearly twenty minutes to fill and Stiles takes the time to get his mouth on Chris. 

He likes singling Chris out but he doesn’t do it very often. Chris gets all gaspy and his neck turns red and Stiles loves to embarrass him. But Peter usually gets jealous and Chris always gets overwhelmed. 

Chris is laid out on the heated flooring with his feet in the tub and his knees on either side of Stiles with an arm thrown over his eyes. Stiles is doing his damnedest to wring a noise out of him. The hot water is creeping up Stiles’ legs and he shivers at the sensation. 

Stiles is tenacious to a fault and he figured out how to deep throat as soon as Peter lets him practice for an afternoon. He’d lost his voice the next day but it was all worth it for the moment Chris’ cockhead slips beyond his tongue and presses into his throat. Chris groans, flexing his thighs under Stiles hands. 

Stiles runs his palms up so his hands are splayed over Chris’ belly. He’s not as cut as Peter, almost nobody is, but he’s got a solid set of abs and Stiles loves the gray hair that dusts his navel. Chris finally starts moving into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles sighs happily through his nose. 

“You look amazing,” Chris murmurs, propping himself up on his elbows. Stiles meets his eyes and Chris’ eyebrows fold like he’s in pain. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you,” Stiles slurs around Chris’ cock and Chris makes a soft, hurt sound. 

“My turn,” Peter says predictably, pulling Stiles’ off Chris from behind. 

Chris flops back down and covers his face with his crossed arms, breathing hard. Peter reaches around to grab Stiles’ cock and catch Stiles’ mouth in a messy, open kiss. He’s hard against Stiles’ back and Stiles arches until Peter is sliding between his legs. Stiles is arched across Peter’s front and Peter takes advantage of this to pinch Stiles’ nipples and roll them between his fingers. 

“Tell me you want it,” Peter says, pulling back from the kiss just enough to meet Stiles’ eyes. “Tell me how bad.”

“Wanna feel you,” Stiles babbles obediently. He holds Peter’s eyes “Want your big, fat dick. Wanna feel you tomorrow. Are you gonna mess me up, Alpha? Want you to—“

Peter cuts him off with a searing kiss and Stiles hears the click of a lube container. Something cool drizzles over his ass and then Peter’s thumb is rubbing over him. 

“Beg,” Peter says simply, shoving Stiles’ head down onto Chris’ thigh. Stiles cranes his neck to peer back at Peter and Peter circles his thumb meanly. 

“Please,” Stiles whimpers, changing gears. Peter isn’t usually this bossy. He folds his arms under himself, balancing on Chris’ lap. Chris’ hard cock is still jutting up beside Stiles’ face and when he glances up Chris is watching them carefully. Stiles looks back at Peter, “Please, daddy.”

Chris lets out another pained sound and Stiles licks his lips when his dick jumps. Stiles really wants to get his mouth back on Chris but Peter isn’t going to let him anytime soon. 

“I don’t think you want it badly enough,” Peter says, faux-sadly. 

“Please, daddy,” Stiles whimpers, pushing the envelope. He arches as much as he can, pushing back against Peter’s thumb. “Wanna feel you. I’m so empty. Please, please. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” Peter asks and he finally fits a finger into Stiles. Stiles sighs and wiggles back against him. “I want you to come without touching yourself.”

“Anything. I just want your cock, daddy,” Stiles says. 

Peter slicks two fingers into him, working him harder than he normally would but Stiles loves it. Peter is gentle to a fault most of the time and when he does let loose, Stiles always ends up tender and happy. 

Stiles waits for Peter to push inside him before he wraps his hand around Chris’ cock. Chris props himself up enough to watch Stiles’ and Peter reaches out to grab a handful of Stiles’ hair and yank his head back. He’s forcing little  _ ah-ah-ah _ ’s out of Stiles with his thick dick and Chris looks like his brain is melting out his ears as he holds Stiles’ gaze. 

“Love your dick,” Stiles pants to both of them. Peter’s rough thrusts keeps his speech studdery and breathy. He interlocks his fingers around Chris’ spit-slick dick and jerks him off while Peter’s slams into him from behind. He meets Chris’ blue eyes, “Want your cum, daddy.” 

Peter’s sawing into him and Stiles can barely remember how to move his hands over Chris. He’s a noisy mess, begging and moaning with his eyes locked with Chris’. Liquid heat builds in Stiles’ belly and he feels a crazed, fucked-out smile cross his face. 

“Jesus, baby,” Chris groans and he reaches out to press two fingers into Stiles’ mouth. “You nasty little thing. You love this.”

“Love it,” Stiles agrees around Chris’ fingers. Spit trickles down from his lower lip and Chris reaches further so his fingers press into the velvety skin at the back of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles is incomprehensible around Chris’ big fingers and absolutely blissed out. “Love it. Love you.”

“Can I kiss him?” Chris asks, eyes darting over Stiles’ shoulder to Peter. 

“Well, did he earn it?” Peter asks seriously, his steady voice barely betraying the brutal fucking he’s giving Stiles. 

“He’s been so good,” Chris says, smoothing his thumbs over Stiles’ cheeks. “So polite.” 

“Our little motor mouth,” Peter murmurs, letting go of Stiles’ hair. He runs his palm down the back of Stiles' neck. “Go ahead, Christopher. Kiss him.” 

And Chris does, slow and sweet. Stiles braces himself against Peter’s violent thrusts and Chris rewards him with a gentle tongue curling against his. 

The juxtaposition is too much and Stiles is whining against Chris’ mouth before too long. 

“Can I cum?” Stiles gasps, rocking up on his toes. He couldn’t look away from Chris’ eyes if the world was ending. 

“No hands,” Peter says gruffly. 

Stiles takes this as affirmation and he’s moaning his way through a truly explosive orgasm. Chris kisses him through it, still licking into his mouth when Stiles is a limp, fucked out rag in his arms. 

“He can’t take much more,” Chris says warmly, cradling Stiles against his front. Peter leans in, covering Stiles with his warm body and forcing his cock that much deeper, to kiss Chris. 

They kiss like old romance stars, Stiles thinks loopily to himself. Like they just met in Central Park for the first time and the entire world stops when their lips touch. 

Peter breaks the kiss only to bite Stiles’ shoulder as he cums and Chris ends up holding them both. He wipes them all clean with wash cloth he’d strategically placed nearby beforehand and then Peter draws Stiles into the warm water of the now-full bath. Chris sinks into after them, still hard. 

Stiles makes a questioning noise from his seat on Peter’s lap and Chris shakes his head. 

“Just relax, Miecz,” Chris murmurs. 

So, he does. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come follow me on tumblr at tarantula-teeth!


End file.
